Something Hot
by Lykaia
Summary: Fires and Winchesters - that always had been a difficult relationship. It surely doesn't help when something starts to burn down buildings seemingly at random. Set after S2 'Heart'.
1. Hunger

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them and I suppose I'd have to queue.

**Note:** I'm not a native speaker. Please, don't shoot me in case you find mistakes.

**Note 2:** After some very encouraging reviews and advices, I decided to revise the story bit by bit. Never thought, that people would actually read this thing and actually like it. .

* * *

_It was hungry. It had been for a long time. Its little mind found it hard to remember a time when it had not been hungry, but snuggled up contently inside its lair, safe and warm. Those outside had come and fed it regularly and it had been grateful for that. _

_But then, one day, they had stopped the steady trickle of sustenance and its lair had grown dark and cold and lonely. Now, it just felt miserable. And hungry. It could do with a decent meal, or any meal at all. For a moment, it considered the option to just crawl out of its dark cave and take a look around outside. Maybe, it could find something out there to devour. The mere thought of food made it quiver excitedly. But then again, it remembered the outside world as a cold and harsh place. Its lair was so much better or at least, it had been better while they still fed it. And who knew what waited outside?_

_Finally, the instinct of survival won over the fear of the unknown. Driven by the sheer need to feed on something, it uncurled, sniffed the air cautiously and searched for a way to climb the steep, blackened walls of its abode._

_Once it reached the exit of its cave, it was surprised to feel itself bathed in warmth from above. Cocking its tiny head, it looked up and into the blue sky above. Staring into the sun for a few moments, it decided that the outside world wasn't such a bad place at all. It wasn't the bleak and cold place it remembered and it certainly was an improvement to the cold walls of its cave. Taking heart by that, it started to look around and take in the world that spread out below it. Suddenly, it caught a faint whiff of a delicious smell. It cooed with pleasure and its tail twitched in anticipation. As fast as its tiny feet would carry it, it descended the steep slopes._

_When it reached the ground, it lifted its head to pick up the trail, then made its way across the yard behind the empty sheds and over to the now deserted office building. It scurried under the car that had been parked in front of the building and scuttled around to examine the ground. There was a small puddle, created by the liquid that dripped down from the car. The delicious smell, that had lured it here, rose from that puddle and wafted over to it. It cooed again and darted over to the puddle to tuck into its first meal in what felt like an eternity._

–

"Okay, geek boy. Tell me again, why you think that's really our kind of gig."

Dean picked up his second burger and glanced over to his brother who had shoved aside his salad to make place for his laptop. For a moment, he pondered whether Sam would notice if he pinched his dessert, but then decided against it. Instead, he took a bite out of his burger and waited for Sam to answer.

Sam studied the screen and scratched his ear. "Well, there have been over a dozen cases of arson in last couple of months."

Dean raised an eyebrow at the glance that his brother threw him. Then he shrugged and swallowed down before answering.

"So? Some pyro on the loose."

He watched Sam's head snap up from behind his laptop again, shaking his head slightly as Dean took another, disturbingly big bite out of his burger. He grinned broadly at Sam who rolled his eyes and chose to ignore him in favor for discussing the potential case.

"Well, police reports on the fires all state that there was no trace of accelerant. Then, there's no pattern when it comes to the targets of the fires. There's everything, from barn to family home."

Dean studied the remaining half of the burger in his hand, trying to figure out a decent plan of attack on the sandwich that was on the verge of falling apart in his hands. Absentmindedly, he wondered what had happened to the art of burger crafting.

"Are you even listening?!"

_No, eating here._ - "Yes, fires, all over the place, no obvious pattern, not our business. As I said, just some pyro having fun."

"Family homes, Dean."

Dean froze mid-bite. His eyes caught Sam's for a moment. A shudder slowly crept up his spine that he couldn't quite surpress. Sam was watching him for a reaction, so he quickly and ruthlessly stamped down on any memories that tried to rise up from the deep dark well of his mind. Instead, he stuffed the last bit of the burger into his mouth with a frown.

Of course, Sam was watching him like a hawk and going by that rising eyebrow at the opposite side of the table, his little brother hadn't missed that little slip there. He didn't comment on it, though, so Dean decided that it had not happened. And what hadn't happened, didn't need to be mentioned.

Finally, Sam returned his attention back to his laptop screen and the potential case.

"Well … who or what ever it is, it is moving in a straight line. It started in an abandoned steel mill about four months ago. From there, it moved down northwest. Since then, there has been a fire every week or so," Sam explained and turned the computer around to reveal a map on which he marked all the fires that where likely attached to the case.

Dean studied the screen thoughtfully for a moment. Sam, being the geek he was, had apparently developed some color coding for this case, based on the likelihood of the incident being related to the series of fires. Red dots appeared to be most certainly related, yellows were unlikely and orange was safely in the realm of 'no idea'.

Dean briefly admired Sam's sense of drama expressed by choosing to apply such a color scheme to a case that involved arson. Then he turned to actually studying the dates attached to the dots. There was indeed a rather straight red line running down south with only three orange and two yellow dots accompaining it on the sides. Between each of the red dots lay a couple of dozen miles and they weren't further apart than a week at most. The thing moved slowly, but it moved.

"So, you wanna check it out?"

He glanced up at his little brother. He still wasn't entirely convinced, but they had nothing better to do. They had finished the last hunt a few days ago with just a few scratches and bruises and hadn't found another good lead since. And before things turned from relaxing to boring, Dean was willing to follow up whatever it was Sam had found there. Anything to kill boredom, before he had more time to think about ... things.

–

A couple of days later, a black car pulled into the disaster zone that once had been the central yard of a steel mill. Now all that was left were ruins from the devastating fire that had raged here four months earlier.

Dean stopped the Impala right in the middle of the open space and took a moment to stare through the windshield at the twisted ruins of what probably had been office buildings. He heard the passenger side door squeak as Sam descended. Finally pushed open the driver side door as well and got out.

"Dude … that gotta to be one hell of a fire to do this."

Desaster zone did barely begin to describe the destruction around them. Most buildings had burned to the ground. Including the blast furnaces and those things were actually built to withstand something like a couple of thousand degrees. There was just no way to get close to that without any accelerants.

The wind curled around the remains of some support beams and played a little with some leaves that it had brought over after the fire. It carried a hint of ash, charred concrete and the acrid smell of smoke, even after months.

Dean closed the door and leaned his arms on the Impala's roof. Funny, that he could almost tell what had burnt just by the smell of it.

While he surveyed the blackened rubble and scorched earth, Sam had wandered around and ducked under some parts of the former roof. Something had obviously caught his attention as Dean watched him retrieve his pocket knife to pick at something on the ground. When he stood up again, Dean noticed something shimmering in his hand.

"Found something?" Dean pushed off the car and approached him from behind. Looking over his brother's shoulder, he saw that Sam was trying to clean piece of dark green, glossy rock. He held it up to him.

"Glass."

–

As soon as they were back at the room, they had rented for the night, Dean made a beeline to the old fridge to inspect its contents. Behind him, he could hear Sam's laptop booting. His little brother was probably about to geek out all over that piece of glass that he found on site.

"So. Glass?", he asked as he turned around with two bottles of beer.

Sam answered with an affirmative mumble as he continued to search the internet.

One well-aimed kick closed the fridge and Dean walked over to put one of the bottles in front of Sam, before pulling out the second chair to sit down at the table next to his brother.

"That's special how exactly?"

Sam tore his eyes away from the website that he had been studying and picked up his bottle to take a sip.

"It takes an inferno to melt sand to glass, you know? Something like 3900 degree."

Dean couldn't help the grin when he noticed Sam slipping into his lecture mode.

"There are only a couple of ways, in which natural glass is created," Sam continued. "Volcanic activity, meteorite impact, lighting striking the sandy ground, or an atomic explosion. Obsidian, tektite, fulgurite and trinitite."

Dean nodded. "Yea, and those blast furnaces surely didn't burn down in a camp fire."

He straightned up and leaned forward on the table.

"A'right. So, we are dealing with something really hot out there?"

"Yep." Sam took another swig from his bottle, before he placed it down on the table next to the laptop to continue his search. "And chances are," he added, "that it's not a woman." Sam grinned as he heard Dean mumbling something that sounded like 'too bad' into his beer bottle.


	2. Basic Instincts

Sam waited outside the gas station's shop at the car for Dean who had gone in to pay for the fuel and probably to help himself to a second or third breakfast which most likely would consist of such healthy things as peanut M&Ms or the odd chocolate bar. Idly, he kicked away some small pebble and looked around. Not that the random gas station in the middle of nowhere was actually all that interesting. There was just the shop with two pumps in the front. To the left of the shop sat a garage in front of which the rusting skeleton of a car slowly crumbled to dust. His brother was taking his sweet time. So, either they had the world's largest selection of chocolate bars in their shop or Dean was trying to hit on the girl at the cash desk. Again. A bored sigh escaped Sam as he scratched the nape of his neck, then frowned as he thought that he had seen some movement from the corner of his eye. Something orange had just disappeared in the gap between the shop and the garage. Pushing himself off the car, he strolled to the side of the shop where he had seen it. There was a stack of old tires sitting next to a battered door which according to the sign on it led to the restroom. By the looks of the door, Sam doubted that he wanted to take a closer look at the interior. Another searching look around revealed a dirty orange rag that was stuck between the tires and fluttered in the breeze. Sam tugged at the rag and frowned at this bout of hunter's paranoia. When did it happen that a bloody piece of torn cloth made his instincts kick in like that? With an annoyed shrug he turned around and walked back to the car, just in time to catch up with his brother who was already sitting in the car, popping M&Ms into his mouth. "Ready to hit the road again, Sam?" Dean looked up at him, chewing around one of his roguish grins, and raised an eyebrow. So, it had been the girl at the cash desk that had kept his brother so long, Sam concluded absentmindedly as he glanced back over his shoulder. He had the nagging feeling of something lurking somewhere nearby. "Um … yeah, coming." With another shake of his head, he walked around the car, opened the passenger door and picked up the maps that covered the seat before climbing in.

_That smell. That unique, delicious smell. It had been following that smell for miles and miles across the land and now, it knew, that it was close. Very close. Just across that stretch of flat, dark ground and past those nasties. Not only that they had stopped feeding it back home. No, as soon as it had found a tasty bite and was having a decent meal for once, they showed up and shooed it away. If it didn't like them before, it hated them now. And right now, there was one of them standing right between itself and its next meal. Oh, that smell was so delicious. It knew it should wait for them to go away, but it was hungry and the lure of the smell was so overwhelming that it decided to take the risk of being spotted. Maybe if it was quick enough, they wouldn't see it. Dashing forward as fast as it could, it crossed the free space between its hiding place and the source of the smell. As soon as it reached the other side, it dove for cover and waited, its tiny heart beating in its throat. Footsteps approached and made it retreat deeper into the shadows. It hissed silently and fought the urge of launching itself onto that big bastard that stopped right in front of it and bite him for all the trouble they had been causing it. Instead, it waited, not moving, not making a sound, just willing that thing to go away so that it could finally go and feed. _

_Finally, the big thing lumbered off. It waited a little longer, hissing after that creature softly, before poking its head out of its hiding place and looking around. Sniffing the air, it took up the scent again and started to follow it to several pipes that jutted out of the ground. The smell emanated from them and there was a tiny blotch of liquid on the ground below one of the pipes. Briefly, it sniffed at it, then discarded it. It was the good stuff, but there was more of that nearby. There had to be more. Much more. Much more food. It skittered over to the pipe and started to climb it to the top. There it paused for a moment to examine the cap that was screwed onto the end of the pipe. There was a gap, not much, but enough for it to squeeze through slowly. Once inside, it inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell that washed over it. And then, it jumped down and started to consume its meal._

"So, any idea how we find that thing? I mean, we don't even have the faintest idea what it is, have we?" Dean took his eyes off the road to look over to his brother who had busied himself with his maps again as soon as they had pulled out of the gas station a couple of minutes ago. Sam slowly shook his head and started to reiterate the meager facts that they had to work with."It moves in almost a straight line, 30 to 60 miles before burning down another building. Last incident happened 6 days ago." Dean frowned for the briefest of moments, the gears in his head visibly going into overdrive. Abruptly, he hit the breaks hard and turned the car around. "Sam." The urgency in his voice was hard to miss. "There ain't anything in a couple of miles 'round to burn down. Anything but that gas station." The last bit of consideration for road safety and speed limits went out of the window as Dean floored the pedal.

As they raced back the road that they just had traveled down, Sam had the sickening feeling that no matter how hard Dean pushed the Impala, they were going to be too late and just as the gas station came back into sight again, the feeling turned into cruel certainty. They heard the thunder of the explosion, felt the shock wave rock the car and saw the cloud of flames and black smoke billow into the blue sky above. To Sam, it looked like things were happening in slow motion. The explosion tore up the gas tanks beneath the station, ripping a hole into the ground from which flames started to lick up. What was left of the shop building quickly caught fire, the blast reduced the small garage to burning debris, part of which landed on the ground, scattered around the site. Unable to wrap his mind around what just had happened and unable to shake the feeling that he could have been able to stop this from happening if he had listened to his instincts earlier, he couldn't do anything but stare. "Call 911!" Dean's order made him snap out of his shock.

While Sam dialed the number, Dean brought the car to a stop as close to the fire as he dared and jumped out. He started to run towards the burning building but slowed down after only a couple of steps. The heat that rolled off the fire was so intense that it felt like the air itself would burn. He raised his arm to shield this face from the heat that kept him well away from the flames. Desperately, he looked around for anything to help him. He knew that there had been two persons inside the shop when they had left. He had to get there somehow to save them.

Just as Sam was about to finish his emergency call, passing the last few details on to the operator on the other side of the line, he looked up and saw his older brother doing something that was just as brave as it was downright idiotic. "Dean!" Not thinking twice, Sam dropped the cell phone and was out of the car in the same instance, chasing after his brother who seemed to believe that this was as good a day for suicide as any. Fear fueled his speed and he managed to catch with Dean just as that one was about to throw himself into the blaze. "Dean, no!" Sam felt the intense heat from the fire singeing his bare skin as he grabbed his brother's upper arm, pulling the older man back forcefully. "No!" Dean's desperate shout was almost drowned out by the roar of the flames as he tried to shake off the hand that was holding him back. "Gerrof me, Sam! They're in there!" Dean was struggling like a wild animal in distress to pull free, but Sam wrestled him away from the fire a couple of steps, not even flinching when Dean's fist contacted with his shoulder in a rather painful way, before forcing him around, away from the sight of the inferno. Dean shot him a furious look, but Sam saw something else beneath that glare and that something unsettled Sam more than his brother's rage could have. He could deal with an angry Dean, even if he himself was the reason and target of that anger. The pained shock underneath, however, felt like an icy dagger in his guts. Instinctively, Sam's arm wrapped around his brother's shoulders. "Got you, Dean. Got you." Dean was about to beat his arms away with a growl when the sound of a collapsing building made both men turn toward the fire again. Sam found Dean's hand clutching the front of his shirt, probably without his brother noticing what he did, as both watched the flames flaring up one last time, bright yellowish white, before collapsing in onto themselves and slowly dying down, leaving nothing but charred ruins. Dean's hand dropped to his side and Sam could tell by the way his jaw was set that Dean just had fortified his inner walls, raised them a little higher than usual. For a few minutes, both men just stood staring at the ruins. Finally, Dean jerked at the sound of sirens in the distance. "Let's go." There was the slightest hint of a quiver in Dean's quite words as he freed himself from Sam's hold and briskly walked back to the waiting Impala. Hard to notice for anyone but Sam and he knew it for what it was. Defeat.


	3. Sleep, No Rest

He had known that they would be back. He had known it the moment that he had heard the thunder in the distance and had seen the flames rise into the sky. When he saw the gas station burning, the shop in which he had been joking with the owner less than half an hour before. Her little daughter had been sitting in her carry-cot, sleeping soundly. The infant had so much reminded him of his brother as a baby.

No. He had known it way before that. When Sam had told him about the family homes burning down, he had known that the nightmares would be back.

_The smoke was everywhere, stinging in his eyes and taking his breath away. The roar of the flames, the heat engulfing him. Where were they? Where were his mom and dad? The bundle in his arms was all he had to hold on to and he needed to take it to safety. He tried to find the door, but there were only flames around him. No matter where he turned to, there was only fire and flames that reached out for the bundle in his arms. His baby brother, his charge. The one thing that mattered and he couldn't find a way to get out of the house and save little Sammy._

_Then he was standing outside. Staring back at the burning house. He was safe, but his arms were empty and panic rose and threatened to choke him as he realized that his brother was still inside. He started to run towards the house, frantically trying to reach it, to find his brother and take him to safety, but he couldn't move. Something was holding him back, something that he couldn't see, couldn't fight. Helplessly he had to look on as the flames consumed the house. He thought he heard a scream from inside as the walls folded in._

He found himself staring into the darkness of their motel room with his heart racing. The acute sense of utter failure constricted his chest. It took a few moments before he realized that the scream in his dream was his own, the scream with which he had woken. Over in the bed furthest away from the door, his brother was stirring. "Sup?" Lingering sleep slurred the question. He wiped the cold sweat off his face with his hand and pinched the back of his nose while he tried to calm his breathing. In the darkness, he heard his brother shifting and pushing himself up on his elbows. "Dean?" He shook his head and rolled onto his side to curl up with his back to his brother. "'s nothin', Sam. Go back to sleep."

He had been right about it.


	4. Defense

_The stone it perched on was warm from the hot summer sun above which made it feel contently lazy, even though it had its last meal a couple of days ago. It started to feel a little peckish again, but for now, just lying on the flat stone with the greenery around was a perfect way to spend its time. It liked this place. Well, it liked it now. It hadn't quite liked it as much a couple of hours ago, when the big ones had spread water all over the plants and the stones. It had been forced to wait until the sun had dried up the last of the water before coming out for its sunbath. Now, things were good._

_Some nearby sound interrupted its rest and it lifted its head to look up and around. It was surprised to see one of those outside beings, which had forgotten to feed it and had left it behind alone, peering at him. It hissed menacingly at the being to scare it away. It didn't like those beings anymore, not after they had betrayed it that way. To its surprise, the being didn't even flinch, but watched it with big, curious eyes._

Summer holidays were kind of cool, Danny mused as he sprinted out of the front door with his skateboard under his arm. He ignored the usual litany of his mom about being careful, being back for dinner and all that stuff. He just wanted to get out and practice some moves with his friends. As he reached the gate, something bright yellow-orange caught his attention. He knelt down and put his skateboard aside to take a closer look at the creature that was sitting on one of the flat white stones that lined the lawn. It looked a bit like a lizard and would have fitted easily into his palm. It was brightly colored, though while Danny watched it, the pattern of its scales seemed to move and shift. "What's this?," he mumbled, a little confused. He had never come across any lizard of that color. They were supposed to be greenish so that they could hide in the bushes, weren't they? So that birds couldn't find and catch them. If it was that colorful, it had to mean that it wasn't afraid of being caught or anything. So, maybe it was poisonous? While Danny was still contemplating the little creature on the stone, it lifted its head and hissed at him. Fascinated, Danny kept watching it. The creature seemed to become nervous and Danny's eye grew wide as he noticed the tiny blue flame the licked out of its mouth like a normal lizard's tongue would do. Danny grinned broadly. "Hey, I know, what you are!," he exclaimed with an affectionate grin and made an attempt to catch the creature with his hands. Flames erupted. Hot, white, angry flames. They burnt his hands and caught his shirt. He dropped back and instinctively tried to roll around on the ground to extinguish the fire. But the flames were merciless as they melted the skin on his hands and forearms.

–

Sam followed his brother who walked across the hospital's entrance hall with the confidence of practice, stopping in front of the reception desk and pulling out one of his fake badges. He watched his brother flash the receptionist his trademark smile, watched her eyes brighten up in response, while Dean introduced himself as 'Agent Rockenfield' and Sam as his partner, 'Agent Adams'. Sam gave the woman a tight smile, while he tried to gauge her. Brown, long wavy hair, barely contained in a ponytail, brown eyes and the slightest hint of dimples when she smiled. Yep, definitely in his brother's prey pattern, though coming to think of it, which woman with a nice face wasn't. She squinted up at Dean, still smiling a little. "Rockenfield? Like Scott Rockenfield?," she asked a little bit excited. Dean shifted with a little embarrassed smile. "Well, you know. Matter of fact – yes. Not related, but my old man was into that kind of music and I guess that's why I ended up with that name," he explained, coughed to clear his throat and even managed to blush a bit. "I get that reaction a lot." Sam always wondered at the straight faced liar his brother was. He had troubles to keep his face neutral at the moment, but his brother seemed to have next to no problem to deliver a downright lie just with the right mix of smile and wink to not make the woman in front of them think twice. "Guess, I'm out of luck then," she replied before apparently remembering about her job. "What can I do for you, agents?" Dean had meanwhile tugged his fake badge back into the pocket of his jacket. "We are looking for one Deborah Syler. Her son Daniel has been admitted a couple of days ago." She nodded slowly, almost sadly as she started to query her computer for the information, Dean had asked for. "Oh yes. The poor boy. News travels fast here, you know. There you go. Third floor, room 316." Dean thanked her with one last smile and turned to head towards the elevators.

"Wow, just my luck to meet a good looking girl with taste in music just now of all times," Dean grumbled to himself after the doors of the elevator had closed. "Dude, we are working on a job, so I hope you don't mind keeping your mind out of the gutter and on the matter." Dean turned to Sam to look at him. "Jealous, Samantha?," he teased, a grin tucking at the corners of his mouth. "Don't worry, not gonna walk out on you for her. Beside, 's not like I'd risk any more. She'll remember the name and, thanks to my gorgeous looks, the face. Henny will have a field day with this one already as it is." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. That man was impossible. "Who's Henny?" Dean's grin grew a bit broader and his eyes sparkled mischievously. "Our very own FBI agent, Henrikson." He watched Sam's eyebrows disappear under his bangs in surprise. "You have a nickname for that guy? Seriously?" Dean nodded enthusiastically. "Yep, keep your friends close and your enemies closer," he quoted, just when the elevator came to a stop. With a pat on Sam's shoulder, Dean squeezed through the opening doors and strode down the corridor in search of room 316.

It didn't take them very long to find the room and it was clear even before they knocked at the door that this would be Sam's show. Dean was good at playing people in general, but Sam had a way with concerned mothers in distress and Deborah Syler for all intends and purposes did count for the latter. So, it was Sam who opened the door quietly and cleared his throat, giving the woman on the chair next to her son's bed a sympathetic look. "Mrs Syler? I'm sorry to intrude. My name is Adams and this is Agent Rockenfield." Sam pointed at Dean behind him who briefly nodded with a professional smile and presented his badge, but otherwise held back. "If you don't mind, we would like to ask a couple of questions."

The woman tore her eyes away from the small, sleeping figure between the pillows and studied both mean wearily. The dark circles around her eyes were impressive and for a second, Sam considered to offer to come back later to allow her to get some rest. But then, the woman racked her fingers through her blond hair and gave them a shaky nod. Slowly, she rose from her chair and leaned forward towards her son, every single movement telling of those sleepless nights she had spent worrying about her son. It reminded both Sam and Dean of those countless hours either of them had spent at the side of the respective other, guarding their sleep. "Don't worry, darling. Mommy will be right back with you." She breathed a kiss on the kid's forehead before straightening up and walking over to the two men at the door. "Thank you for your time, Mrs Syler." She nodded again, hugging herself. "What can I do for you?" Her voice was quiet. "Mrs Syler, could you perhaps tell us what happened to your son Daniel?" Sam flipped open his notepad and prepared to jot down notes. He briefly glanced over to his older brother who still stood at the door, looking over to the injured kid with an unreadable expression on his face. Daniel's mother shook her head. "I don't know. I ..." Her voice broke and she shook her head again before she continued. "I really don't know. I was … cleaning the kitchen after Danny's late breakfast. He had been in a hurry to meet with his friends. Next thing I know … he screams, I run out and ..." Sam waited for a moment to give her some time to compose herself. "Did you see anyone nearby?" - "No, no one, just ..." Sam stop her with a gesture. From the bandages, he could guess the kind of injuries that her son had sustained and it didn't need much to imagine what it was she had seen when she had rushed to her son's help. In fact, he didn't need to imagine anything. He had seen it happen, had watched helplessly as his brother dragged him away and out of the room. He knew exactly what felt like to see a loved one engulfed in flames and he didn't want to force her to revisit that particular memory. "It's okay, Mrs Syler. Has he woken up yet?" She replied with a nod. "Yes, briefly. He was … confused and kept going on about some pokemon he wanted to catch." That caught Sam a little by surprise. "Pokemon?" - "Yes, Danny loves them," she replied sadly. "He said, he was trying to catch it when it attacked him." - "Do you happen to know which one it was?" Sam asked, ignoring the look of bewilderment that he received from the woman in front of him. "Don't know … Charmander, I think. Why?"


	5. Wash It All Away

Sam had hurried to finish his questioning of Deborah Syler quickly afterward. He found Dean still standing at the door, obviously lost in his own thoughts and still looking at the boy in the bed, probably without really seeing him. A nudge to his side brought him back just enough for Sam to maneuver him back to the car. However, all the way to their motel, Sam had the certain feeling that Dean was only partially paying attention to his surroundings. The mask behind which Dean so carefully guarded his feelings was out of place and he didn't even seem to notice. Sam noticed though, noticed the vertical line that had been etched between his brother's eyebrows ever since he had seen the boy back in the hospital, noticed the way his lips formed a thin line. He had also noticed the dreams from which his brother woke with a start and a scream, drenched in sweat and panting like he just had been chased for several miles. Something was eating him up inside, wearing him down. Sam could almost see how that thing kept chipping those walls. He knew that sooner or later, the levee would break and though he wouldn't dream of letting his brother down when he needed him most – and God knew that Dean would need him if that ever happened – he wasn't quite sure if he would be able to handle the full barrage of whatever Dean kept hidden behind his walls. He didn't know if he could piece his brother together and mend things when pushes came to shoves. He didn't know how to do it. It had always been Dean who pulled him back to his feet and dragged or even carried him another mile or two. It always been him leaning on Dean, relying on him to be there when he couldn't go on by himself. He wanted to do the same for Dean when his brother needed him. He had to. He needed Dean. Dean was all that was left of his family and he'd be damned if he'd walk away from him again. He wanted to be strong for him. The problem was that he just didn't quite know how.

Finally, Sam decided to break the silence that had filled the interior of the car. "Dean?" A brief glance remained the only reaction and he waited for another moment. "Are you okay?" - "Yeah, I'm fine." He could have placed all his money on his brother giving him his standard answer to that question. Translated from Deanish to English, these four words could mean about everything from 'Yes, I am really okay.' to 'Just a little bit upset about the situation in general.' or even 'No, totally not so okay down here because that fugly, evil son of a bitch just gave me one hell of a beating.', though right now, Sam reckoned that they meant 'No, because something is bothering me more than I would like to admit.' With a silent sigh, he went to stare out of the window for a while, watching the landscape go by and trying to figure out what to say next. "Is it about that kid?" He turned his head to watch his brother's reaction. The crease between Dean's brows had grown even deeper and a muscle along his jaw was twitching as he gritted his teeth. White knuckled hands clutched the steering wheel. Dean remained silent. "C'mon, Dean. Talk already!" Sam felt the frustration inside him rise. "I said, I'm fine, Sam." _Yeah right, big bro. Go and tell that somebody who doesn't share a motel room with you every night. _Sam turned his head away from his older sibling again and rested his chin against his hand, his elbow propped up against the Impala's side. His brother was a hopeless case. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't. Period. Dean would rather demolish the lid of the Impala after hours of work spent to rebuild his beloved car than speak about what was bothering him. The memory of the dented metal sent a chill down Sam's spine. Dean damaging his car came uncomfortably close to Dean hurting himself.

Both brothers remained silent for the rest of the ride to their motel. As soon as Dean had put the car into park, he got out, barely waiting for Sam to do the same so that he could lock it up. Sam watched as his brother walked over to the door of their room. To him it looked like Dean was making an effort not to run toward it. Or rather Dean was making an effort not to break into a run, fleeing that thing that was obviously haunting him. Dean unlocked the door and pushed through, disappearing inside the room, while Sam followed a little slower. When he entered the room, he found the bathroom door shut and heard the sound of running water in the shower. His eyebrows rose a notch. His brother was taking his second shower of the day.

Dean was standing in the shower, both his hands braced against the tiles. Eyes closed, he allowed the hot water to splash down on him, drip from his short hair, trickle into his face and run down his bare back, easing the tension out of his body. His clothes were strewn cross the bathroom floor. He had almost ripped them off, feeling constraint even by only a few layers of fabric. He desperately wished the water would wash him clean, but he knew that no matter how hot the water was and no matter how much soap he used, he wouldn't get rid of his failure. He could scrub his skin until he drew blood and it would make his incapability go away. The boy back at the hospital didn't stand a snowball's chance, he knew that much. They were just making sure, he was as comfortable as possible. He clenched his right hand into a fist and pulled it back to throw a punch at the tiles. Another victim and they weren't one inch closer to getting that son of a bitch. They didn't even have a first clue what it was. Ghost or spirit? They had been searching up and down the path that this thing burnt through the country, trying to figure out where the connection was between the fires. But there was none. No dark secret that connected the victims and places, no object that had been passed on between them. No nothing. A demon? Again, they had looked into every telltale sign of demonic activity between here and there. No freak weather. No crops failings or mutilated cattle. Squat. Just fires. So your regular arsonist? They had witnessed one of the fires close by. It had obliterated two buildings in less than ten minutes, burnt too hot and bright to be just an ordinary fire.

His fist connected with the wall. The brief pain of the impact gave him a few seconds of clarity and he opened his fist to plant his palm against the tiles again. The water was gradually running colder which also helped to clear his mind. Why the hell did his father leave them behind? Why did he have to dump it all on his shoulders? Why did he have to save him? Him out of all? His incompetent son who couldn't even figure out how to do the job? Dean was sure that his father would have figured out what they were hunting and have dealt with it weeks ago, while he still fumbled along in the dark. John Winchester surely would have being more than able to do, what Dean friggin' Winchester was too stupid for. Instead, people that he was supposed to protect got hurt or killed because of him.

When the water had eventually turned from lukewarm to just a little above ice cubes, Dean turned the shower off, but remained in his position propped up against the wall with his palms on the tiles for another couple of moments. Finally, his mind registered the cold that brought goosebumps to his skin. He took his hands off the wall and straightened, slowly blinking away some moisture that blurred his sight. Silently he decided to pretend that it was just some drops of water that had trickled down from his hair and got caught on his lashes. The old, discolored shower curtain rattled as he pushed it back to grab a towel from the rack and sling it around his waist, not bothering to dry himself off. Reluctant to face the world outside, he stepped out of the shower and unlocked the bathroom. "Dean?" Sam called his name as soon as the door opened. Dean lifted his head and tried to straighten up for his brother's sake. No need to burden Sam with his failings. He looked at the 6 foot 4 giant that was his little brother who sat at the table, laptop in front of him, and looked back at him with a hint of concern. "You okay?" Dean nodded and lowered his gaze again to watch Sam from below his lashes. What else was he supposed to do? "Yeah, 'm fine." He knew by the way the corners of Sam's mouth twitched briefly that his brother wasn't buying his lie. And he was immensely grateful when Sam let it go and instead turned the laptop around to show him something. "I think, I know what we are dealing with."


	6. Too Hot To Handle

"Sonuva …" He found himself on his knees, gently rocking back and forth through the blinding pain, his right hand cradled at his chest. He tried hard, but couldn't help the pained grunt as he blinked to clear his blurry vision. Brilliant idea that had been. To grab that fucking pokemander – or whatever it had been – with his bare hand to shove it into that bucket of water.

"_It's a salamander. An elemental spirit of fire," Sam had explained when he had figured out what they were dealing with. "According to medieval belief, there are four elements: fire, air, water and earth which each are represented by some creature or spirit," he had lectured on. Dean had noticed the concerned glances that Sam had thrown his way during that little lecture, but had chosen to ignore them. Instead he had focused on the information which had been displayed on the laptop screen. "Each element has an opposing element which cancels it out." Dean had nodded at that point. "Let me guess: Water?" – "Yes," Sam had confirmed. "We just need to find a way to pin it down."_

The bastard got what it deserved, though. Well, actually it didn't get enough of what it deserved for attacking Sam. Dean winced and lifted his head to look around. Sam, right. He had acted on pure reflexes when he had seen that creature go for his brother, jump at him, sending him crashing backward into the fence close by. He had picked that thing – freaking lizard – off Sam's chest almost the same instance, Sam had touched ground in a not so nice way.

"Sam?" Goddammit, his voice was a weak whimper, laced with tears. He tried again, this time putting more strength into it and started to struggle back to his feet. "SAM?" His hand was a solid mass of throbbing agony. Dean paw, parboiled. He hadn't had the heart to take a detailed look at it yet, but he was sure that his hand was red and blistering all over and his palm was probably doing a real good barbequed burger impression. Staggering over to his brother who finally seemed to come around with a grunt and a grimace, he tried to decide whether to hug the giant idiot for still being alive and seemingly largely unharmed or to kick him for that monumentally stupid idea of his. Probably both in time.

"_Huh. It's just … hungry, dude." Sam had watched the fire elemental with some fascination as it approached their trap, jumping from fuel droplet to fuel droplet. Each time, it found a new source of food, it had manifested in its lizard form with what sounded like an outcry of sheer joy. After scuttling around the morsel first this way then the other, tilting its head this way and that way to examine it carefully, it would leap up in a flame to consume the fuel, before disappearing into a puff of hot, shimmering air that scurried over to the next drop to repeat the spectacle. "Hungry, my ass!" That exclamation had earned him a reproachful look from Sam. "Dean, it just wants to feed to survive. Maybe, if we could capture it and find a place that's safe, you know, for both other people and the salamander ..." The look that he had given his younger brother then must have been one of utter disbelief. "Hungry? My ass!" he repeated. "A werewolf's 'just hungry', too, and you don't just take that for walkies!" Ouch. The moment, those words had been out, he would have given a fortune to get them back. That had been just the very worst thing to say to Sam merely a few weeks after rather tragic gig in San Francisco. "Shut up." Sam had stalked off after shooting him a look that had spelled 'jerk' all over. No, not quite 'jerk', more like 'asshole'._

"Sam! You okay?" He lowered himself to his knees on the hard packed ground next to his brother and reached out with his uninjured hand to grab Sam's right shoulder. A gentle shake and Sam frowned, cataloging his injuries, then forced his eyes open to slits and looked up at him. "Head's ringing. Chest … else … fine … I think." Dean growled and let go of the shoulder to examine the holes that the salamander had managed to burn into Sam's shirt before he had been able to scoop it off. There'd better be no burns on Sam's chest or so help him, he'd find a way to resurrect that thing to drown it again. Several times over. Tugging the shirt up, he scrutinized the four burns on Sam's chest and started to curse viciously. Each of them wasn't larger than his thumbnail. They looked superficial, just a reddening of the skin, but he made a promise to ask Bobby about any ritual that could bring the bastard back. Beside, cursing and swearing a blue streak always helped with the pain. At least somewhat. "Hey, dude! What happened to that precious personal space?" Sam protested and shoved Dean's hand away to tug the shirt down again. He was still pissed at his older brother for that idiotic werewolf comment, though by now, he was down from absolutely monumentally pissed to mildly pissed.

_Earlier, he had been mad enough at Dean to leave him standing there, apologizing. Without another word, he had marched out of the yard of the abandoned farm, they had been lucky enough to find in order to set up a trap for the rogue salamander. When Sam had returned with the kerosene lamp from the Impala's trunk, Dean already had sprung the trap and flooded the shallow trench, which they had toiled to dig earlier that day, with water. The trench surrounded a roughly circular area, about six feet in diameter. In the middle of that island, they had placed a pan filled with kerosene. They had figured that now that the elemental spirit had hit a rather empty stretch of land, it would be desperate for any kind of food, which it obviously was. Moreover, Sam had reasoned that water would be to that creature what salt was to a ghost. So that circle of wet dirt should be able to confine it, which up to that moment had seemed to work perfectly, as the salamander madly sprinted along the line, frantically trying to find a way out of its prison, clearly not liking the idea of having something wet that close by. Their plan actually had been to use the fire extinguishers that they had purchased for this job and off the lizard from a safe distance. As a backup, in case that the mystical creature wouldn't react to mundane chemical weapons, they had some buckets filled with ordinary water at hand. It had been a good plan. A plan that actually could have worked smoothly for once. Then, Sam had decided to change it._

Sam took a closer look at his brother and the last bit of his anger evaporated as he saw Dean's face scrunched up in pain. Sitting up straight and ignoring the dizziness caused by that movement, he leaned toward his brother and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You okay there?" It took a while, before his question seemed to register with Dean's brain, but finally Sam received a nod and a breathless "Yeah, 'm fine … Peachy" for an answer. Noticing that Dean cradled his right hand protectively in his lap, Sam dropped his hand from Dean's right shoulder to his forearm and tried to gently pull the obviously injured limb over to him. "Let me have a look at that." Dean winced at that touch and screwed his eyes close. "Hurts?" Dean nodded again. "Like a mother." Sam carefully turned his brother's hand over and though he knew that Dean would only admit being in pain if it was really bad, the sight that greeted him made Sam suck in his breath and wince in sympathy. Much of Dean's hand was red as if he had stuck it into a pot of hot water for too long, though the worst part was the palm that sported several nasty blisters. "What the hell did you do?" Dean opened his eyes and gave him a somewhat lopsided grin. "Saved your ass, princess."

_The moment, that Sam had stepped inside the ring of wet dirt, Dean had instinctively known, that the whole thing would result in a catastrophe, and the infamous Winchester luck had been quick to live up to its reputation. Sam had had just enough time to open the lamp and make a valiant attempt at convincing the salamander to play along and get into it, before the creature had lunged at him with a furious screech and enough force to send Sam flying backward. Dean had been on the move even before Sam had crumbled to the ground unconsciously, knocked out cold by the impact with a fence post. He hadn't reflected much on his actions when he had ripped the lizard away from Sam's body. A part of his mind may have registered the searing pain caused by the pure fire that he held trapped in his fist as he stumbled over to one of the water buckets. That part may have been his common sense that probably had also been trying to tell him, that those flames sprouting from between his fingers actually had been a bad, bad thing. But as always, the rest of his mind hadn't paid all that much attention to his common sense, especially not while he had had something to kill that had attacked Sam. So, he had only remotely been aware of the pain in his hand when he had plunged his fist into the water, while the rest of him had only felt grim satisfaction at the futile squirming of the creature in his hand. _

_Revenge – the salamander had bitten and clawed into his flesh. _

_For the homes of families burnt down, like his own home – the creature had twisted and turned in his grip, struggling to get free and out of the water that had heated up considerably._

_For the deaths of the owner of the gas station and her baby daughter – the lizard's attempts to squirm free had grown more frantic and steam had started to rise from the water._

_For the boy in the hospital – the struggle had lessened._

_For Sam who had lain sprawled out on the ground behind him because he actually had meant to help the creature – the movements of the salamander had stilled to a weak quiver before it had dissolved into a whips of water vapor with a mournful sigh._

_Dean had knelt there for another moment, breathing heavily, staring into the bucket with hard, cold eyes. Then, finally, his common sense had managed to break through and the pain had crashed into him like a solid wall. "Sonuva …"_


	7. Cooling Down

"That's unfair!" Dean was lying on one of the two beds in a weirdly decorated room of a motel that was a safe distance away from the abandoned farm. Pain killers made the edges of his mind a little fuzzy, but dulled the throbbing, pulsing pain from his injured hand. Mild concussion or not, Sam had helped him back to the car and packed up their gear despite his protests. Sam also had insisted on dragging him into the ER of the nearest hospital and though hospitals usually ranked somewhere between rats and demons on his list of favorite things, he was rather grateful for the good stuff that they had given him. It had taken them some hours to get his hand clean up and bandaged and the rest of the day had gone by by putting as many miles of tarmac between them and that farm as possible. It was late evening now, he was decidedly hungry and Sam was nagging and doing his touchy-feely thing. Glaring up at his brother who was standing at the foot of his bed, he kept picking at the bandages.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "It is?" Putting his hands on his hips, he scowled back at Dean. "Yeah, it's friggin' unfair! I'm an injured man!" To underline his point, Dean held out his bandaged hand and waved it at Sam. "Injured, drugged up and helpless."

Sam rolled his eyes with an indignant laugh. "Helpless? You? Tell me another!" He heard Dean mutter something under his breath as he walked over to his own bed to sit down. "Dean, I'm just trying to help, you know?" He watched as Dean focused on the bandages again, picking at them with a deep frown. Several minutes went by before he lifted his head again and turned to Sam. "And you had to wait for me to be helpless, injured and drugged up to do so, Florence?"

The sarcasm oozing from Dean's reply made him jump back to his feet and had him pace over to the table. At times, his brother seemed to put everything he had into driving him into insanity. With another roll of his eyes, he turned back to face his older sibling. "Yes, dammit! I had to wait. And you know why?" Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Sam didn't intend to give him a chance to crack another joke to defuse the situation. Instead, he cut him off by stabbing an accusing finger into his direction. "Because that's the only damn time that you stop running."

There was a moment of silence that hovered awkwardly in the room as Dean stared at Sam who met the look with set jaws. Finally, Dean dropped his gaze back to the bandages and started tugging at them again. "'m not running away," he murmured quietly.

"Oh?" Sam's mocked surprise made Dean look back up at him. "Well, let's see what we got there then. Oh yeah, Dean trying to heroically sacrifice his life by jumping into an inferno." Sam started to tick off the items on the fingers of his hand. "Then we had Dean going blank during a hospital visit. Dean taking two showers at the same day, coming out looking like something the cat dragged in. And … I forgot the nightmares. Couldn't help to notice those." Dean closed his mouth again and turned his attention back to his bandages. "Dean! C'mon, bro. Talk to me! What was this all about?" When he was rewarded with nothing but silence, Sam turned with a huff and ran his fingers through his hair. It took him a few moments to cool down again, then he turned to face his brother again. "You are scaring me, you know? I'm scared that one of these days, you'll be doing something lethally stupid in order to save someone. I'm scared that I'll be the one to bury you in the end."

Dean stopped picking at the bandages and instead watched from below his lashes as Sam paced. Guilt gnawed at him as he chewed on his lower lip. Sam's accusations had him caught between the rock and the hard place and he couldn't quite help the anger that welled up inside him because of that. "And what am I supposed to do?" he asked, making an effort to keep his voice calm. Sam stopped dead in his tracks and turned back to face him again. "Should I've watched that thing light you up like a torch? Do you think I could watch you die like that boy back at the hospital? Because no, Sam. I can't!" There was another moment of silence and Dean noticed that there had been more heat in his words than he intended to put into them.

A few moments passed as both brother simply stared at each other. Then Dean averted his eyes and drew a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "The owner of that gas station. She had her baby girl with her that day. 'bout eight months. 'twas the first time, she had her with her." He rubbed his good hand over his face tiredly, hating the fact that Sam had managed to get him into the chick-flick corner. But knowing his brother and the determined look on his face, he knew that Sam wouldn't let him out of it again all that easily. Not as long as he didn't give him at least some morsels to satisfy him. Talk about a dog and its bone. "Couldn't save them, Sammy." He glanced up at his brother again to watch him move over to his own bed again.

Slowly, Sam sat down, trying to make sense of what his brother had said. "Dean," he finally started. "You said yourself that you can't save everybody." - "Yeah, but I should," Dean shot back and went to studying the bandages on his hand again. Sam couldn't help the sad laugh. "Why, Dean? Why you?" Sam's question made Dean look back at Sam, studying him, imploring him to understand. "Because ...," he started, then broke off and shook his head. "Because what?" Sam was leaning closer, trying to pry an answer from his older brother that made sense to him, but Dean just sighed.

_Because, if I can't save them, how am I supposed to save you?_

Eventually, Dean shook his head again. "Just because."

_

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**Note: **Thanks to all those that stuck with my little story. It's actually the first one to ever get finished AND published. So, really: Thanks. And special thanks to those that took the time to write a review. Those mean a lot to me.  
_


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